A Brief History

Before we get too far down this road, I should let you know that I’m a decorated runner. No, “decorated” isn’t the right word. Hold on while I Google “antonyms for decorated.” Naked. I’m a naked runner. No, that isn’t it either. Unadorned. That’ll work. While I have some history with the sport of running, that history is . . . unremarkable.

In the fall of 2000, as a Davidson College freshman, I ran in the Cake Race, a less-than-two-mile run around the campus that awards top finishers with cakes made by locals and professors. At the sound of the gun, my friend [name redacted] and I took off in a dead sprint. A photo taken in the first seven seconds of the race would’ve revealed us with a healthy lead over the rest of the pack. Things went downhill from there. At some point, the president of the college (in his mid-fifties at the time) passed me. He was wearing the Davidson Wildcat mascot head. A few minutes later I was passed by a man who was juggling while he ran. He, too, qualified for a senior citizen’s discount. About that time, I noticed how close the race route had taken me to my dorm. I went there instead of to the finish line. Later, I ate some of the cake my neighbor brought home after winning the race.

After college, I ran a few half marathons, 10ks, and 5ks. The last 5k I ran was five or so years ago. I don’t remember my time, but I do remember crossing the finish line and seeing a runner who had finished well before me casually smoking a cigarette next to the finish line. That was . . . kind of a bummer.

Only one direction to go from here . . .